


Brick by brick

by britishngay



Series: Come over [13]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, Are y'all ready for emotional suffering?, F/F, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishngay/pseuds/britishngay
Summary: You evacuate the party as soon as you can, still shell-shocked from Heather’s admission.Tonight has been a goddamn emotional roller coaster.(Or, Veronica's thoughts after she leaves the party and what happens the following weeks)
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer
Series: Come over [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454131
Comments: 24
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

You evacuate the party as soon as you can, still shell-shocked from Heather’s admission.

Tonight has been a goddamn emotional roller coaster.

From arriving and almost falling over due to Mac’s ferocity in the form of a hug, to laughing with the stoners to catching Heather’s eyes so many times in the night and getting a different reaction each time. Then she came up to you, asking to talk, and you almost say no, the answer was on the tip of your tongue, but you stopped yourself because maybe she’s learnt how to act like a normal human being. Plus it was nice to see her squirm a bit at your lack of reaction, it was nice to get to give her the reaction she so enjoys putting others through.

Then you followed her upstairs, never looking back, she has to make sure that reputation of hers is maintained. You remember feeling lost in Kurt’s house, with white walls and white carpet and pictures of him and his brothers everywhere, all of them with the same dopey smile on their faces.

And then she kissed you and, you didn’t really know what to think. You’d really missed the feeling of her lips against yours, the feeling of her hands on your body and the way she responds to you, but then you push her away, you can’t go through this again. All of the humiliation and pain and swirling feelings of lust and hate and all of the unhealthy things that come from loving Heather Chandler. You pushed her away from you and said things that made her flinch and then she replied and everything clicked into place.

Everything made sense, or at least everything is supposed to make sense.

But it doesn’t.

Fucking hell, it doesn’t.

You left the party pretty soon after that, everything was too loud and too hot and you could barely think about what you needed to think about; Heather.

Fucking Heather.

You never know what to do with Heather.

You should be getting a lift back from someone at the party, but you’re walking home, Sherwood is small enough where everything is at least a half an hour walk from everywhere else. It also clears your head, the sidewalk is wide and your shoes are the loudest part of the street. The lampposts are yellow and sullen against the sky, shops are closed to your left. There’s no moon or stars, only a sky covered in grey clouds. You’re in the part of town by the 7/11, you’ll be in the suburbs and by your house soon enough. It isn’t that cold but you’re folded into yourself and staring at the ground that’s barely in front of you, you suppose it’s because you’re thinking a bit too hard.

Fucking Heather Chandler and high school and the ridiculous way that everything feels like the end of the world.

In reality it’s just a little microcosm of how your life will turn out, you’ll barely ever see the people from school again, yet you’re giving your all, constantly to figure people out, to get to know Heather, god knows if you see her again, if you would recognize her on the street ten years from now.

You scoff to yourself, no, you’ll always recognize those eyes and the way she twists her lips into a smile.

Shit, you’re almost home. You won’t be able to think properly there, pacing would wake up your Mom and you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. You go to the 7/11, hoping that JD hasn’t gone on one of his late night slush runs, you can’t handle talking to someone right now, you need to be in your own head. Besides you’re pretty sure that you’d break down and tell him everything, and you’re not too sure how that would go down. You grab a big gulp, it’s superior no matter what JD says, and sit on the curb, lighting a cigarette. You’re not that drunk anymore, the cold air and walk have sorted you pretty much out, that way you has analyse your life with a bit more clarity than you had initially planned, but a small amount of alcohol still thrums through your veins, allowing you to have that l’assez faire attitude that helps you make decisions.

(See: the first time you went to Heather’s.)

You’re life has gone pretty haywire since senior year began.

You started the year a virgin with a grand total of two friends and pretty damn sure about who you’re supposed to love and hate within the social hierarchy of Westerberg high. You’re now halfway through the year, you’ve slept with the one person you most definitely shouldn’t have and you have at least five friends – if you count Duke as a friend, which you’re pretty sure you could. She’s not half bad when you get her on her own, you like talking to her about her analysis of whatever book she’s reading, she’s also wicked at the game cheat, always being able to tell when the rest of them are lying – it always ends up with Heather rage quitting and demanding that you play something else.

You’re getting off topic.

God, this year is fucked up.

Your mind drifts back to Heather and what she said.

You’re still reeling from what she said the last time you went to your house, and her confessions tonight were like a punch in the gut. You’re getting whiplash from this girl, and it hurts so much.

You would say you feel slightly vindicated that you’re idea that she was lying came to fruition, but the pain and confusion you’re currently feeling leaves no room for thoughts like that, and what she did was still a shitty thing to do.

Some of you wants to forgive her and kiss her and love each other in silence, but with an understanding of each other’s feelings. Some of you wants to freeze her out forever, let her be, she can be cruel and awful and hurtful and you deserve better than that.

But most of you is just baffled.

You’re a pretty decisive person, you guess. You know what college you want to go to, you know movies you want to watch, you decide for the group when you want to eat somewhere, but you never know what you want when it comes to her.

Well, you do, you want her. But you want her while being respected by her and with an understanding of what the relationship is between the two of you. That’s what the logical part of you reminds you, it’s what you wanted two weeks ago, but your heart pushes back. And it’s pushing back hard, you need time to process through your emotions and to think about Heather and if you want her in your life.

You have too much of your big gulp and get brain freeze, JD would be proud.

It’s sharp and cuts through your temple, you clench your teeth and put your tongue on the roof of your mouth. You close your eyes and take in the world around you, you can hear the buzzing of electricity from the 7/11 and the rare car go by, it’s cold but you’re not freezing, it smells like your cherry big gulp and cigarettes. You let out a sigh and open your eyes.

Do you want Heather in your life?

Short answer: yes.

She’d always been there, since kindergarten, all through middle and elementary school.

She’s caused all sorts of strife for you, bullying your best friend relentlessly for years and personally hurting you, saying things that rub salt right in the wound. But she’s made your life a lot more likeable recently – barring the last couple weeks. The quiet moments in her bed, they bring a smile to your face. She let her guard down for you, she talked to you like a normal(ish) person.

You should probably start heading home, but you’re rooted on the curb of 7/11, your mind going in circles.

A car backfires and you jump, shit, that was unexpected.

You stand up, throwing the now empty Big Gulp in the bin. And begin the short walk back to your house, trying to wipe your mind. You’re going to think yourself into a panic attack if you’re not careful and you hate those, especially in the middle Sherwood in the middle of the night. You take some deep breaths, hugging yourself as the wind picks up slightly. You've decided that it's too close to the event, that you won't be able to think straight, that you won't come to the conclusion you want - even though you're not entirely sure what that is yet. 

God you're tired of this all.

You told Heather you needed time, why don’t you give yourself some too?


	2. Chapter 2

The next evening is an every other week movie night with Martha and Betty, JD had a shift at 7/11.

You’re not watching the Princess Bride for once, you’re watching some shitty b-movie sci fi that’s fun but not very memorable. Martha and Betty are enthralled by it’s bad effects and whacky music and you’re sitting there, thinking of _her._

You hate how you can’t concentrate because of Heather, what she said, the way her mind works, this should be simple, you should go to her house and tell her and you could be together in secret, like you wanted two weeks ago.

But there’s part of you blocking that, the part of you that’s still hurting, still aching from her words.

Why can’t you make a fucking decision?

“So, Veronica.” Betty says and you make a conscious decision to pay attention. “Are you ever going to tell us who you’re banging?” She says it through a mouthful of popcorn, a woman on screen in a budget Barbarella swimsuit is shooting ‘aliens’. You can tell Martha has started staring at you, sympathy in her gaze, no one stops Betty Finn when she wants to know something.

“Betty-“ You start.

“Come on, do the Heathers’ know, because if I find out after the Heathers then I reserve the right to be pissed.”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I miss talking to you about shit like this.”

“Betty-“

“Veronica. At least tell me does he go to our school.”

It’s fun and games until you find out that your best friend is sleeping with your mortal enemy.

She’s really not going to let this go, fuck. You could lie to her, but that’s unfair, she is one of your best friends, it’s just that she kinda really fucking hates the Heathers. Crap, you’re going to have to tell her aren’t you? This isn’t going to end well.

This is just what you fucking need. You mean, you could use this to your advantage, you could get help.

“Uh, she does.” Woah, okay that was bold holy shit. To her credit Betty barely bats an eyelid at your confession.

“You’re not going to tell me outright.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Betty, I don’t really think you want to know.”

“Of course I want to know.”

Can’t she just leave this alone?

“Chandler.”

“What?”

“I was sleeping with Heather Chandler.”

The only sound in the room is the shitty movie, which Martha shortly turns off. The silence is a terrifying calm before the storm, where you can see the information clicking in Betty’s head and she looks like she’s gearing up for a boxing match while Martha watches in fear.

Suddenly there’s an overwhelming amount of noise.

“WHAT?!” Betty almost fucking shouts standing up, her bowl of popcorn now all over your floor. All you can think about is how that’s going to be a pain in the ass to clean up.

“Was?” Martha says softly, looking at you with pity.

“ _Her?_ Really Veronica, the whole _fucking_ school and you chose _her_?”

You can’t even focus on them, you just stare at the black screen where the movie was playing just seconds ago.

“It started as an accident.” You say, cutting across Betty’s tirade. That only spurs her on.

“An accident? What did you slip and fall into her fucking vagina?”

Your throat starts to close slightly, you hands start to feel fuzzy.

“Betty that’s enough.” Martha interjects.

“No I want to know, how could you possible think about sleeping with that vile, emotionless, drone-“

“Betty!”

“-of a human being? How could you?”

“Betty Miranda Finn, you stop right this instant or I will come down on you like a fucking tonne of brinks.”

It’s Martha swearing that makes her stop and stare at her in shock, she’s standing there, with a thunderous look on her face while Betty starts to stare at the ground.

“Veronica is there anything you’d like to say?”

“I- I, please I don’t know what to do. Sorry, I – help, please?” You get out, all this emotion just bubbles out of you, it closes up your throat, it threatens tears to spill from your eyes. You choke back a sob, your hand coming to your mouth.

Maybe if you stay like that you won’t cry.

“How serious was this V?” Betty says and you feel like your answer may be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“Betty.” Martha chastises, coming over to rub your back.

“Betty’s right she is, she is an awful person but I, can’t help it I-“

“Sh, sh, Veronica, breathe. Betty sit, let’s not act like overdramatic teenagers for once.”

Betty unhappily slouches on the sofa, she has every right to be pissed off to be honest, you’ve just been at breaking point for days and that kind of interrogation came at quite possibly the worst time during their whole affair. The room relaxes slightly as you can feel your hands again and can breathe properly.

“You good?”

You nod.

“Now can you please explain why in the fresh hell you were sleeping with Chandler – unless it was for blackmail material in which case-“ Martha cuts her off with a look. “Do I have to walk on eggshells around talking shit about Chandler, because we’ve been doing it for months and V had no problem then.”

“I think it’s just a lot right now.”

“Can you at least explain when it started and how and why?”

“The night of the party where Martha came and they pranked her. I went over to her house, at this point I barely remember why, and we argued then we kissed and she said that she wouldn’t completely destroy me in school if I was better than the football team.”

“Christ, that long?”

“It was just hate sex, just a way to get back at her, I was in control, for _once._ And then she kept calling, before midnight, after midnight, on a Friday evening, she would say two words: ‘Come over.’ And I would, because I liked the feeling. And I didn’t think it through, ever, I never thought –‘hey, she’s a bully who’s hurt my friends irreparably’, I just did it.”

“That’s a real good excuse, V, you just didn’t think.”

“Well it’s the only one I’ve got and it’s what happened.”

“Guys. What happened, last time we talked you said that you had feelings for her.”

“Yes, I went to talk to her, and she said that she was using me. But then, last Saturday, she told me that she lied because she was terrified about her feelings, about liking girls, about liking me and she lashed out and I want to go back to how it was but I just _can’t_ it fucking killed me to hear all my insecurities were true – even though they weren’t. And I don’t know what to do, I can’t make a decision.”

“Fuck, V, that’s deep.”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Yes I knew, that’s what you got from that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we knew you’d lose your mind.” You speak up. Betty rolls her eyes. You’re happy she’s calmed down from being pissed off to

“You understand why though?”

“Of course I do.”

“ _How_ did you fall for her?” Betty asks incredulously, crossing her arms and staring down at you.

“She would say things, we’d be just lying together, and she would say something stupid, or laugh so hard she’d snort or something and I just fell.”

The room is silent after your admission. Betty looks like she doesn’t know what to feel.

“Listen V, I know you don’t condone her actions but I’m not going to act like everything’s hunky dory. This reads like a betrayal.”

“Betty I’m-“

“I know. And I will forgive you, I’m still your friend, just give me some time.”

That’s what you said to Heather, you almost laugh at the turn of events.

You feel her hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Look, it’s past ten, my Mom’ll be pissed if I’m any later, I’ll talk to you on Monday.”

It’s a shitty excuse to leave, you all know that Betty’s Mom trusts her to get home at any time of the day, as long as she’s safe and leaves her boots in the hall so she knows she’s back home. But you understand why she needs to get out of there, it’s the same reason you had to last week. She took it a lot better than you expected but it was still a fair means from good.

“Hey B?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you not tell JD? I’d rather do it myself.” She look conflicted for a second, getting that scrunched up face and tapping her foot a few time before sighing and turning away.

“Sure.”

With that she squeezes your shoulder again and leaves, closing your front door quieter than you thought she would.

“That could’ve gone worse.” You say, smiling weakly. Martha does the same. “What should I do Martha?”

“I think the only people who know how to fix this are you and Heather.”

“You mean talk, again.”

“Yes, communication is the only way to know what’s going on. If you and Betty hadn’t talked then I’m pretty sure one of you would have a broken nose.”

She gives a pointed look at you, implying you would be the one holding ice to your face. It makes you laugh slightly.

“Every time I try to talk it ends badly.”

“Don’t let her ruin it this time, I believe in you.”

It makes your heart almost shatter how much sincerity is in her voice.

You lean against her and she wraps her arms around you.

You feel safe when you make a decision.

You will talk to her and settle it once and for all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha so,,, this didn't mean to take so long. A thanks to 'ChansawForeverDudes', because they inspired me to come back to this fic.

You take a deep breath before dialing Heather’s number.

It’s a Friday, it’s not too late, you’ve had a shot of the gin the Heather’s got you for your birthday, it’s the perfect situation for this. It’s hard, all of it. The last few months. You’d always imagined you’d be holed up in your room studying until the wallpaper moves and living off coffee. And while you have done that some nights, other nights are consumed by Heather goddamn Chandler, she infiltrates your mind just when you’re about to go to sleep. Your body calms, you breathe deeps, your eyes fall shut effortlessly, and then her face shows up, her voice, her confession, her lips against yours, hushed words and secrets between the two of you.

The only way you can stop thinking about her is working.

(Or shoving your hand places that she’s familiar with.)

It rings twice before she picks up.

“What?” She says, short and irritated. You must’ve interrupted her skincare routine, you think bitterly, your hand sweating against the receiver of the phone.

“Come over.” You keep your voice steady as you hear her try and fail to hide her gasp.

“Ro-Veronica, hi.” It sounds like she’s tripping up over her words, you can’t quite describe her tone of voice. It’s like a fifth, the cold harmony, the ones that are used to fill space without meaning much, except that her words speak volumes. Her tone, it’s purposefully empty with eagerness peeking through. Her pride is still stopping her from being eager, but you can hear the breathlessness at the end of her words.

“Heather, come over.”

“I’m not climbing up the back of your house.”

There she is.

“Whatever just be here.”

You hang up, hoping that she does what you’ve been doing for months now.

Fuck, you can’t believe you’re doing this. You hope that she’ll be willing to talk, willing to listen instead of trying to cover herself. You hope, a small glimmer trapped under your heart, that she’ll accept you, that she’ll want you. You almost take another shot of gin but that would mess with you too much so instead you take your fear out by pacing in front of your desk.

Was this a mistake? Maybe, but it’s a long time coming. There’s only so much repression and hiding of feelings that you can take, your grades have already started slipping and your sleep, although admittedly not very good, was starting to diminish.

At least you got to call her for once, it’s a weird change in dynamic that gives you that thrill that you always get when you best Heather Chandler, when you’re on top of her, making her groan into your ear, making her beg. You have a love-hate relationship with the feeling, on one hand, it’s a way that you can be in control for once, on the other hand, sometimes you feel dirty for liking it so much; but at the same time, you feel the desire of it tugging your fingertips toward her when you sit near each other in English.

Soon you’re slightly dizzy from pacing the floor and these thoughts, you lean against your desk, breathing deeply, feelings swirling in your stomach. The mix of dread, anxiety and the small amount of excitement is sickening as you wait. The deadly mix bubbles up and pushes against your lungs, causing your breathing to shallow slightly, but you breathe through it, counting as you try.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

Lord knows how you’ll survive if she hurts you again.

Finally, it couldn’t have been more than five minutes, you’re just impatient. But you hear a tapping on your window, Heather is standing in the middle of you garden, arms folded around herself. She looks so small down there, looking around your garden. Her hair shines in the moonlight, it’s not pulled back into a red scrunchie, it’s not down and fluffed perfectly, no. It’s down and free, even from up here you can see her face is clear of makeup as she goes from staring at the ground to you.

You pull back from the window, taking a breath before you head downstairs and open the back door.

It’s all silent as you lead her up your creaky stairs and into you room. The air is full of tension, not the blood-curdling, screaming kind, not the pull for a painfully amazing kiss, the tension where you both want to speak but it doesn’t feel right.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You sit on the edge of you bed, miming Heather to do the same, she does. She smooths her skirts with slightly shaky hands.

“I’m tired Heather. Of this.”

“Of us?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“I don’t know what to say anymore. I’ve said all I can, Heather. You hurt me, even though I knew something was wrong that night, even though I now know it was a lie, it really fucking hurt. But icing you out hurt to, so I don’t know what to do.

You’re all I think about. I wake up and you’re there, I try to sleep you’re there, I’m writing a fucking essay on Little Woman and I’m back in your bed joking about it with you. You’ve consumed me, whole. I walk into school and I see your car and I remember the way that the leather used to stick to my skin. But then I remember the pain when you told me I was nothing, I remember the way you pushed me to the side like I way nothing, the way you’re hurt my friends. And I’m conflicted.

My heart says you, my head tells me to tell you to fuck off. My body misses the way you made it feel.

So no, I don’t know.”

You sit in silence, eventually Heather’s hand falls into yours, she squeezes your hand and it send shockwaves down your body. She never fails the spread warmth through her touch, through her gaze.

“What if we start at the beginning?” She eventually says. You glance at her, she’s avoiding your eyes, instead tracing shapes and patterns into her skirt.

“What do you mean?”

“A date. Just at the mall, we could walk around, just us, and see where the day takes us. Or go for a drive and watch the sunset, I know a place where no one else goes, it could just be us. We could stay here and watch a movie, even one of your shitty sci-fi ones. Just a date, just us.”

You expected her to fight, to insult, for _you_ to have to convince her to calm down and stay, but instead you’re speechless.

_Yes, that’s all you want._

You and her, away from everyone else. Those 3am talks that fueled butterflies in her stomach but in the brightness of day, forbidden looks and stolen glances and small, quiet touches that set them on fire.

“I- okay.”

Her hand makes it’s way up your body, until it reaches your neck and she pulls you in for a kiss. It’s possibly the softest kiss you’ve ever had with her, no pushing tongue and wandering hands, just slow lips moving against each other. You never want this to end, you don’t want to speed it up, to stop it, you just want this to keep happening.

Eventually you do pull away, and the small, burning desire you feel in your stomach doesn’t overtake your emotions, it grounds you to this moment, with her.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go on a date.”

She giggles into your mouth as she kisses you again, it’s less tentative and soft, but still PG. Then she pulls away, leaning her forehead against yours before rising.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home? I thought we were just talking.”

“We are, but you can stay.”

“Really?”

“C’mon, you look like you need a hug.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s an excuse for a cuddle, Heather.”

You throw her an old jumper of yours, while you undress into your underwear and t-shirt.

You fall asleep with the smell of her perfume in your nose, the taste of her lips in your mouth and your arms wrapped around her body.

And it feels right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you go.
> 
> I have a genuine question: should I end this series here? I have planned a long ending involving them going to University and there's fluff and angst and smut, but this also feels like this could be a small ending and I could write an epilogue? Please tell me your thoughts!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading this, genuinely sorry that it's so overdue xx
> 
> If you wanna talk about cute Chansaw date ideas hmu at 'its3amandiamverytired' on tumblr. 
> 
> Hope y'all have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed xx
> 
> Also I recently binged Avatar and during this Heather will be giving off major Zuko shouting in the middle of book 3 'My am I so bad at being good?' (While still being a lowkey asshole)
> 
> My tumblr is 'its3amandiamverytired' if anyone want to hang out n talk about my religion: Chandler in glasses
> 
> Comments go as hard as the Chain by Fleetwood Mac but please don't feel obligated to leave any :)


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